


Marvel

by awomanalone



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Death Defying Feats, F/M, Friendship, Love, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 21:55:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4893787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awomanalone/pseuds/awomanalone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brief scene between Jack and Phryne set after Phryne escapes from the water tank but before the interrogation of Eva.</p><p>Jack helps Phryne down and they arrange to finally fulfill their dinner plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marvel

**Author's Note:**

> Just a very brief scene after the water tank in Death Defying Feats- I finally got the DVD today!
> 
> Hopefully I'll get back to writing more at some point soon when everything has settled down here at Uni, but for now, here's a little short piece that I hope you will all like ;)

_“How on earth did you manage that?”_ Jack exclaimed, heart still hammering in his chest. He gazed unabashedly up at her, utterly in awe.

 _“It helped that our murderer showed a distinct lack of imagination in her modus operandi,”_ Phryne replied, slipping her hands beneath the barely there costume to retrieve two lock picks. Jack’s gaze instinctively fell to watch her, his eyes locked on her chest, and he bit down on the inside of his cheek to stop his blush as the scanty fabric bared far more than was decent to him in his position just below her. Then again, he mused, he’d already been privy to the view of her bare chest that night at the Imperial Club. That had definitely been quite a sight- one he relived rather frequently, the memory locked away safely in his mind, ready to pull out when he was ensconced in his bungalow and could forego his usual stoic and sensible detective inspector’s façade. 

He was pulled from his thoughts by the raucous crowd as Phryne called out her ‘thank you’. He turned to watch them as they applauded the marvel before them, his mind still whirring. He could feel the grin slowly appearing on his face as he turned back to watch her wave at the crowd- she certainly never failed him in his expectations. She was at once baffling, infuriating, worrying, bewitching, mind blowing, and utterly wonderful, and it fair knocked him sideways how deep his desire ran for her. How deeply he wanted to call her his. Not in the conventional way- he knew full well Phryne Fisher was not a conventional woman and never would be- but in the way that gave him the chance to kiss her, hold her, run his hands over her silken skin, make love to her. In the way that, after their _‘one gaudy night’_ was over, would allow him the opportunity, should she so wish, to do it all over again, for he knew without doubt that he would never be satisfied when it came to her. He didn’t just want to call her his, he wanted to be hers, to extend their partnership- friends, colleagues, _partners in crime_ (it always marvelled him how easily she could wheedle her way beneath his exterior, seek out those carefree and mischievous parts of him that he stowed safely out of view, and cajole him into bending the rules), and now, hopefully, _lovers._

The noise of the crowd having settled as the curtains were drawn once again, Jack caught Phryne’s gaze, surprised to see her staring back at him. The corners of her mouth drew up into a smile as she looked at him, and he was enticed into a grin that, he was sure, could have been an exhibit itself in the Cavalcade of Mysteries. God, what this woman did to him.

“Need a hand, Miss Fisher?” 

He was sure she would decline, and was bracing himself to watch her pull off another magical feat and levitate- or at the very least slide gracefully off the tank to a round of applause from the performers. So it was safe to say it took him aback when she reached out a hand to him. Her smile was devilish, yet her eyes sparkled with something far less mischievous. 

Slipping his hand into hers, he held tight as she slid to the edge of the tank, her legs dangling over the slide. Letting go of her hand, he reached his arms up, slipping them around her waist, his palms coming to rest on her bare flesh. Before he could dwell too much, Phryne was in front of him, her hands on his shoulders to brace herself as she got her bearings back on sturdy ground. Instinctively, his hands slipped around to waist to meet in the small of her back as he held her against him. 

“I’m wetting your suit, Jack,” she laughed, their eyes meeting, faces only inches apart. He watched the droplets of water slide down her skin, his desire to brush them away warring with his desire to keep both arms around her waist and pull her even closer.

“It’ll dry,” he rumbled, his eyes not leaving hers.

“Jack,” she breathed. She was still panting from her ordeal, but the glassy wide eyed look she was giving him had other origins, he was certain. He stepped in closer, feeling her body press all too intimately against his.

Slowly, he dropped a kiss to her forehead, hearing her emit a small murmur. She lifted her eyes to meet his. “Go and get yourself dry, Phryne, before we interview Eva. You’ll catch your death like this,” he told her, and she shot him a playful pout.

“Yes, Inspector,” she saluted, moving to pull out of his arms. He held fast, and she quirked an eyebrow at him.

“We can’t have you catching your death,” he began, drawing small, lazy circles against the skin of her bare back, “because we need you alive and well for our dinner tonight. Unless it’s too forward of me to invite myself to your abode, that is.”

Phryne scoffed, and he bit back a laugh. “Jack Robinson, you know full well that nothing you say will ever be too forward for me. In fact I’d rather appreciate it if you were more forward- but that’s a conversation for another time…,” she paused, placing a hand against his chest, “You know I’ve been trying to get you to my table all week?”

“I’ve been trying to get to your table all week.”

“No distractions tonight. I mean it,” she announced, trailing her fingers over his waistcoat, “so I’m limiting your alcohol. And you’re not to stand near any doors for longer than 10 seconds. And above all else- if my father makes an appearance again tonight- it’s one drink and then I’m marching him out of the house at gunpoint….or perhaps I’ll just march him up to bed at gunpoint, if I’m feeling lenient.”

With that, she disentangled herself from his embrace and he watched her walk off in the direction of the dressing rooms. As she reached the edge of the stage, he couldn’t help but smile as she gave a theatrical bow to those present. Before slipping away, she suddenly turned back to him, and with a devilish look on her face that had him blushing instantaneously, blew a kiss into the air. 


End file.
